west coast | monday

[temperance elizabeth fleming]

down on the west coast

they got their icons

May 1, 2027
monday meadow weekly

Merlin, Temperance recognized that smell anywhere. Los Angeles. The portkey was some small and slightly heavy muggle device. It was inactive, but Temp had asked the Ministry employee who had processed their paperwork what it was. Apparently, Muggles used this device in place of cigarettes, though Temp couldn’t for the life of her see how or even why. The parchment had called it a ‘Vape’, and she mainly frowned in confusion. In any case, it was a one-time use portkey that could be safely discarded in the nearest dumpster—and since it was Downtown Los Angeles, there was one in the alley in which they appeared.

The story she was producing? A series on the ghosts of the Cecil Hotel. Witch TV was getting on the bandwagon on the spike in Magical True Crime. Although Temp had sat through a handful of Muggle True Crime shows her muggle-born colleagues had brought in, she wasn’t sure how adaptable it was. In reality, Temp felt they had a documentary-type series at best since they could speak to the ghosts still in the Hotel and get the story. Thankfully, there was a second reason they were back in Southern California. ”This place hasn’t changed all that much.” Temp spoke, primarily to herself, but she glanced behind her and made sure her intern was still in one piece. ”You alright?” It wasn’t a good look if something happened to her. But it so happened that the most competent intern they got this year was also a California native.

Still in the alley, Temp adjusted her bag on her shoulder and took out her wand. ”Point Me” She cast to gauge where they had arrived. Her brow furrowed, and she retrieved the parchment the employee had handed her before they portkeyed. ”Dammit.” She sighed heavily. ”They portkeyed us near the Hotel instead of the 405.” Their second reason for their trip was to cover a short documentary on illegal broomstick racing prevalent in the United States. The highways and freeways in the larger states such as California were perfect. Long stretches of road or some that were windy and dangerous, and then, of course, the freeways that traversed the many hills and mountains here. Temp took a few steps forward into the light and out of the alley, but they were in a public parking lot—or what used to be one.

Los Angeles didn’t have many alleyways, which was probably best since there was a large homeless population here that would easily take up the spaces. But a few steps further and she was finally on the sidewalk. To her right, some apartments. In front of an old building that was once marble-white but was now ashen gray from the smog. And to her left, oh—she let out a sigh of relief. ”Thank Merlin—let's stop by Spellbucks, and then we can apparate.” Temp motioned for Weekly to follow her, it was a very short walk, but they still had a lot to do. ”I never asked where you were from.” Temp realized, as she looked at Weekly. All she knew was that she was also from California.

Southern California, for all that was there, still felt like a small town at times. ”First we need check out…” Temp adjusted her bag again and pulled out a small notebook. ”Mountaingate Drive of the 405. And then…the 405 North of the 101. And looks like…the 5 South of the 14.” She paused to avoid running into some people in a hurry. ”And we should have time to get to PCH before the Hotel at Midnight.” They had a lot of work ahead of them. And their portkey home, near the Hotel and identified as a broken umbrella behind the building, would activate the next day. Or so she hoped. There were incidents involving Los Angeles homeless Muggles picking up said random objects and being transported to London. It was a hassle for the Ministry and employees of Witch TV, Interpol, and International Journalists from The Daily Prophet since they still had to get their people back home. Plus, ensuring the transported Muggles were brought back safely and with no memory of the incident. But the sooner they got this done, the sooner they could go home and send the host out to film.

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[monday meadow weekly]

May 1, 2027

In the "real world", the perks associated with being a Californian in London were few and far between. Monday had found that being an American wasn't even that much of a novelty anymore, and the people at Witch TV had better things to do than to fangirl over her being the child of two celebrities. If she could call it a "perk", she had been selected to go with Temperance Fleming—another American in the office who happened to be a producer—to go to Los Angeles.

That wasn't so bad, but Monday couldn't say that she was thrilled with having been spat out near a dumpster by the Portkey that she and Temperance had taken. If she had known that they were going to end up there, she would have tried to arrange something with her parents first. They could get a Portkey to somewhere nice, maybe a hotel that wasn't haunted, and freshen up a little or something.

When Temperance asked her if she was alright, though, Monday verbally confirmed that she was. "Yeah," she told her. Monday had landed on her feet and not on her butt, fortunately, but it was also safe to say that they weren't in a section of Los Angeles that she was familiar with, wherever they were. The area they were in was seedy and dirty. Covering crime wasn't something that she was interested in, either, but that didn't really matter all that much. It was better than going on yet another coffee run… sort of.

Monday was a little less confident when Temperance cursed aloud and said that they were closer to the old Cecil Hotel than the 405. That explained the dumpster. "Aren't there, like, homeless No-Majes here?" Monday lowered her voice to a whisper. She didn't mean to be rude, but she didn't think that this was really somewhere she was supposed to be. If they were just poor but magical, that would have been one thing, but they were No-Majes.

Not wanting to get too far from Temperance, Monday trailed her. They definitely didn't look like they were in the right place, but Temperance noticed at just about the same time as Monday did that there was at least a Spellbucks within view. (It couldn't be too sketchy if they had a Spellbucks, right?) Temperance said that they could even stop for coffee before Apparating to where they needed to be, and Monday nodded as Temperance motioned for her to follow her.

"I never asked where you were from," Temperance added.

Monday kept relatively quiet, which wasn't usually like her. "Oh, um, I was raised in Beverly Hills, actually," she said, but saying that she was from Los Angeles was typically easier—and it kept people she didn't know very well who didn't immediately realize that she was a celebrity kid from acting weird about it. "But, um, I was born in Downey." So that evened it out… Maybe? She had no memory of being a newborn, but she had been born there.

Temperance consulted her notebook and rattled off a number of different streets that were supposedly hotspots for illegal broomstick racing that they needed to check out. And all of those would need to be on their to-do list before they checked out the Cecil Hotel ghosts at midnight. Was it doable with magic? Yes. Would it be tiring? Probably. But this was work now.

"So, it's Spellbucks and then Mountaingate Drive?" Monday asked Temperance, trying not to talk too loudly with No-Majes around them. That wouldn't be too bad, especially if she would be able to keep her drink with her for the rest of the day.

temperance elizabeth fleming

[temperance elizabeth fleming]

down on the west coast

they got their icons

May 1, 2027
monday meadow weekly

Everything about Los Angeles was different. And as Temperance walked, automatically adjusting her body so she wouldn’t run into anybody, she was hit with a wave of sentimentality. It felt like home. The sounds, the smells, the crowds, and the angry glares of people walking on their phones or distracted. Rebuilding a life halfway across the world had not been her first choice, but Temp did it for her family. Looking back slightly at the intern’s hushed question, she nodded after looking back at her phone. ”It wouldn’t be Southern California if there weren’t any.” Her tone a bit dry. ”It’s always a joy when they grab our portkeys on accident.”

The statistics that the Ministry and Witch TV typically didn’t dish out publically. But, the No-Majes were always brought safely back to where they came from. But Temp was surprised. Anybody from Southern California would be familiar with the large homeless population here. One corner had a Spellbucks, and the other one was Tent City. They approached the Spellbucks, and as somebody exited, she immediately caught a whiff of freshly ground coffee beans before the door closed. Her heart could have lept out of her chest at that point from happiness.

Temp nodded as she pulled the door open and stood aside to let Monday in first. Of course, it made sense now. There certainly weren’t Tent Cities in Beverly Hills. Much like you wouldn’t find any Ilvermorny or Beauxbatons students living there with anything less than the latest Firebolt broom, and brand new, of course. Temperance kept her thoughts to herself. Her upbringing had been normal and middle-class. Nothing to complain about. Temperance followed Monday into the store and found a small table in the corner. The crumbs and balled napkins left behind floated away into a nearby trash bin as they approached. ”We’re right in the middle of both. Do you still have family out here?”

While they had magical means, thankfully, to travel. There was still the odd phenomenon of “traffic” of sorts. Portkeys landing far from your destination and even apparation as well. It was frustrating, but Temp would have rather walked the extra twenty minutes than risk a splinching incident. Now that they were seated, they could discuss the game plan more. ”There is a No-Maj Country Club on top of the hill. The magical Country Club is hidden there as well. We can speak to the staff there.” Temp put her phone away, mentally organizing the checklist for the day. ”You want anything?” She asked Monday as she stood up. All she wanted was her iced espresso.

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[monday meadow weekly]

May 1, 2027

Temperance confirmed that there were, indeed, homeless No-Majes in the area. Monday felt bad for them, but she also couldn't help being a little weirded out. The comment Temperance made about their accidentally grabbing Portkeys didn't improve that any; she wondered how often it happened that someone had to go and Obliviate a No-Maj who had stumbled upon a Portkey accidentally.

Heading inside Spellbucks was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert, and they even managed to get a table. "We're right in the middle of both," Temperance said then. "Do you still have family out here?"

Nodding as she seated herself across from Temperance, Monday then spoke. "Yeah, my parents live in Beverly Hills, and I have younger siblings who are still at Ilvermorny," she explained to her. Her siblings weren't in California while school was in session, but they were living at home when they weren't in Massachusetts.

"There is a No-Maj country club on top of the hill," Temperance added. "The magical country club is hidden there as well. We can speak to the staff there."

Monday had heard that there was somewhere called the Magic Castle when she was younger and had been sorely disappointed to find out that it was for a bunch of No-Maj "magicians". The magical country club, though, was somewhere with which she was familiar, but Temperance asked her if she wanted anything before she had a chance to mention it. She was pretty sure that her parents were still members there.

"Like, a small matcha latte? I have Dragots. I can pay you back."

temperance elizabeth fleming